“All the way to the capital? Because of what Crake said?” Vercha’s nose wrinkled. “But you have a solid lead, and he clearly knows it.”
“All the same,” Rexim replied. “That lead could dwindle. If I am out of sight this close to the vote, I am out of the Hundred’s minds. I must go. Besides, the funeral will be held in Pen Aryn, and I need to be seen there, speak to those present.”
“What a blow,” said Vercha, pulling an envelope from her bodice. “ForIhave just heard from our old friends, the Cormorants. We’ve been saying for some time that we should meet on the mainland, but today they write to say they miss us, and the island. They ask if they can stay. And what a good excuse for a party…” She ran a thumb over the letter, forlorn.
Rexim took in his daughter fondly. “Invite them anyway,” he said. “I shall be back in a few weeks. I should be glad to know they are keeping you occupied in my absence, and on my return…Yes, I think I have decided. We shall host a ball in the Cormorants’ honor and try to make up for that disastrous luncheon. I want to see Osprey again,withoutCrake, and the other eastern families—as many as can come. A final push before the vote. What do you say?”
Vercha’s whole countenance glowed.
“Aball,” she gushed. “Oh, I must meet with Cook immediately, and Miss Haney, and, oh dear, none of my dresses will do—”
Rexim waved a hand. “Tell Madam Mora she may bill me directly. And don’t forget to order one for your sister.”
Vercha was almost vibrating with delight. “You are too good to us, Father.”
He shook his head distractedly. “Now, where is your elder brother? I must tell him in no uncertain terms that neither he nor any of you are to leave this island while I’m gone.” His eyes roved the windows, brows drawn down. “Things are far too unsettled for any of his usual nonsense. I have no choice but to leave him to hold down the fort, but I’m counting on the rest of you to help keep him in line. No Veil, not until—” His eyes suddenly shot to me. I’d blended into the background: quiet, unassuming. “Well, if you run into him, you send him straight to me.”
He strode off, boots squelching in the mud, and I looked at Vercha, pulse thudding in my throat. “What’s the Veil?” I asked as innocuously as I could.
She cocked an eyebrow before squinting up at the drizzle. “Oh, just a place we all meet in Port Rhorstin. Our…circles, I mean.” She flicked me a glance. She must mean the Hundred. The local nobility.
Why in hells was my meeting there?
But she was already beckoning me back toward shelter, and I could only hurry after her, fighting to hide my dismay.
—
The next day, with a mixture of nervous energy and cold dread, I went to meet Vercha and Debry on the beach.
I’d had to don my livery for this, but I knew I couldn’t wear itinto the Veil: a haunt of the Hundred, according to Vercha. From what Rexim had said, it seemed Emment, at least, was a regular, and I didn’t want to risk someone recognizing the crest and mentioning the fact that I’d been there to the Shearwaters…I’d need another outfit. But I had a plan for that.
Vercha’s revelation had kept me up in the night. Was it one of the Hundred who’d slipped the note in my luggage? But how was that possible? It had been packed at Arbenhaw and remained unopened until we got to Tresteny.
I’d also been fretting about the crossing itself. With pallwater a week away, the causeway was covered, nearly a third of its length now sitting beneath the waves. And though a gale had whipped up that would help nudge us westward, I still suspected my services would be called on. I pictured all the practice I’d done coming to nothing. The sea roundly ignoring me. Vercha, right there, witnessing it…
But at dawn that morning, for the first time, I’d made a breakthrough. Crouching on the shingle, I’d made a whirlpool in the surf, the calmer ocean seeming more receptive to my cajoling.
As I jogged down the path to the harbor’s small jetty, a quiet voice in my head said,It’s easier because it’s pallwater.I squashed it down. I knew archwater would come around again soon, but I didn’t want to think about that. It made my stomach twist with fear.
Vercha and Debry were waiting at the harbor, but to my shock and unease, Llir and Tigo were there, too. It was only as I picked my way over the shingle that I recalled Tigo’s words from the day of my arrival:“Half the gold now and half in two weeks, on market day.”
As I approached the little party, Llir’s eyes caught mine. His hair, dark brass, was breeze blown and fluffy; his cloak fluttered around the tops of his boots. Tigo gave me an evaluating stare, and I suspected he was remembering our encounter in Rexim’s study. Over the past week, I’d been far more careful. I just had to hope our paths didn’t cross in town…
Vercha was immaculate in a deep-emerald coat, elbow-length gloves, and hair pinned so tightly that the gusts off the ocean barely shifted it. Neither she nor Llir wore laconite, of course—my efforts would have been hamstrung if they did. Perhaps because of the lack of protection, Debry eyed Tigo and me suspiciously as she helped her mistress step into the vessel. Most of the non-Orha servants avoided us. They seemed simultaneously afraid of and scathing toward our “gifts.”
“Sucha relief,” Vercha said, “to have a Floodmouth again. We hardly managed after pallwater last month.”
Llir said nothing, watching the ocean, but his sister’s eyes were glittering excitedly. “Corith, you must bedyingto hear about the ball. It’s all in motion; the Cormorants have confirmed. Old allies of ours. You’ll love them—everyone does.”
The boat moved off, buffeted by waves and wind. I stared at the green-gray water, trying in vain to focus.
“If they set off directly, they’ll be here at full pallwater, so they’ll be coming by boat, but they’ll bring their own Floodmouth, of course. And they’re to stay for three weeks, with the ball on the thirty-eighth…”
She was clearly exhilarated; she’d barely paused to draw breath. The boat lagged. I fought to block out her chatter.
At a flashed glance from Tigo, Llir reluctantly interrupted. “Orha need quiet to concentrate, Sister.” I met his eyes, feeling a flicker of gratitude, but he settled back, watching me expectantly—disconcertingly.
“Gosh, sorry,” Vercha said. “Me and my mouth!”
